


Liquid

by Bebedora



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Agony, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Major character death - Freeform, Panic, Poison, Realization, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Whumptober Day 21--LACED DRINK, coming to terms with your own death, i'm a horrible person again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-31 07:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21121172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: All it takes is one sip.Whumptober Day 21--LACED DRINK.





	Liquid

Liquid

[[Whumptober prompt—LACED DRINK]]

The glass fell from his hand, shattering into a dozen pieces, spilling the golden champagne onto the ornate parquet floor of the Garden ballroom.

Immediately, Squall Leonhart knew he was in trouble.

His hands shook, wave after wave of searing heat raced over his face. He pulled at the stiff fabric of his uniform collar, allowing the sudden beads of sweat to roll down his neck. His stomach lurched and he felt like he was going to vomit. 

The champagne.

Poisoned.

His eyes tracked to the ground for a split-second, struggling to focus on the remnants of his drink. Squall’s thoughts were frenetic and growing ever-more incoherent as his mouth went dry. He _knew_ something was wrong and that he needed to get to a doctor, and yet, he swore he saw Sorceress Adel in the puddle of champagne on the floor.

He stumbled forward, Zell grabbing him with a goofy grin and a playful admonishment. The tattooed fighter clapped him on the back.

“Too much to drink, Commander?” 

Squall tried to force out a reply, but his throat was clenching shut. He only managed a raspy cough—tasted blood. This stuff worked fast.

The room spun.

_“Squall?”_

Hands grabbed him. Tried to keep him upright.

_“Squall! Look at me!”_

His lungs were filling with blood. Soon he’d drown from the inside-out. If this poison what he thought it was—and he was pretty damn sure—there was no known antidote.

This was how it would end. On the floor of a ballroom, surrounded by his friends and colleagues, suffocated by his own life essence. 

He fell to his knees. 

Panicked screams, unbridled chaos. Someone barked orders in the distance, the sound muffled in his ears by the poison’s effects. Blood bubbled up his throat, cascading from his mouth. His heart skipped a beat. Then another. And another. Blinking rapidly, he realized his sight was failing him. Blackness crept in from his peripheral vision.

Squall gasped, gagging on the crimson waterfall inundating his body. His hands clenched, muscles stiffening as the toxin overtook his nervous system. He tumbled face-first onto the ground in an ungraceful sprawl of limbs. A seizure followed, one Doctor Kadowaki would later comment was the worst she’d ever seen. The blood vessels in his eyes burst, staining the whites a startling scarlet. Blood tricked from his nose, his ears. Seeped from his pores. 

His friends swarmed around him, clearing the blood from his mouth, turning him on his side so he wouldn’t choke. Shaking him. Pleading with him. Someone carefully picked up the remnants of his champagne flute with a linen napkin, mindful not to touch the evidence. 

Squall stopped breathing. Still alive. He panicked. His end was now, and he knew it. Unable to draw in another breath, unable to expel anything but blood. As his eyes rolled back into his head one last time, his heart gave out. A feeble last beat.

Silence.

No one moved. Talked. Dared to breathe. 

They just stared.

The once-strong SeeD Commander lay in a pool of his own blood, life taken for an unknown reason, by a nameless coward who was never brought to justice. 

**Author's Note:**

> Every single one of these Whumptober prompts that I *should not be* writing because I have a book deadline is Saber_Wing’s fault. Also, she’s an awesome beta.


End file.
